


Faust - the comedies first part

by AK_Sushi



Category: Faust - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Good Omens (TV)
Genre: AU - Faust, Alternate Universe, Faust is an arrogant academic, rating because of swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22391875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AK_Sushi/pseuds/AK_Sushi
Summary: Well.It had been a good decade for Crowley, but then the big boss personally threw an important job at him - tempt some poor git towards hell, use all the big guns.And so he set out to tempt Mr. Faust.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whenever I stumble and cling to a new fandom, I do what I like best: I'll create an AU with Goethe's Faust. Because, why not?  
Expect a glacial update pace - my Ph.D. work is currently beating me up in an alleyway (that's also the reason why Vacationing and other adventures hasn't update since forever...)
> 
> Tags are subject to updates as I work along this... work. Eloquence A+.

Prologue

The curtains are getting drawn. 

A being is sitting on a wooden chair. SHE is female-presenting and bowed over some papers on a heavy desk. HER dark skin seems to be glowing.

<strike> Three </strike> Two archangels step in from behind the curtains. Gabriel comes in from the left, Michael from the right.

Gabriel looks towards Michael.

_ Gabriel _ ...Isn’t someone missing here?

Michael shrugs.

_ Michael _ Uriel’s on vacation, if you’re wondering where she is. Mallorca, I think.

_ Gabriel _ No, I… nevermind. What’s on the agenda?

Michael adjusts some papers in her hands.

_ Michael _ Some category four storms are scheduled for later this month, but logistics is running behind. They suggested to turn one of them into a category three so we stay on time. I suggested that they should take some overtime to deliver as promised to avoid a  _ write-up _ .

_ Gabriel _ Hm-hm. Good thinking, Michael. We need angels like you to keep this operation running smoothly. 

_ Michael _ Thank you, Gabriel. On other news, since implementing just-in-time-measures our divine intervention departement output has tripled.

_ Gabriel _ That is great to hear! I am curious how they realized those measures - maybe we could check those out?

_ Michael _ Of course.

The two angels take off towards the right and step of the stage.

SHE is still sitting on the chair, seemingly not having reacted to anything that had just happened.

From the left another being enters the stage. He is male presenting and wears a black, stained suit. He takes his sweet time ambling towards the desk and chair. He checks the ceiling and under the table. 

He sits down on the table and throws some finger guns at HER.

_ Satan _ Eyyy, God, my homie!

_ God _ ...Another name change, really?

Lucifer, the Morningstar, the Devil, Ruler of the Abyss, the dark Lord, Satan shrugs.

_ Satan _ Can’t really decide on what strikes the most Terror in mortals.

_ Satan _ So, whatcha doing? Wait, wait, don't tell me. Let me guess. 

He gestures animatedly as he talks.

_ Satan  _ You sit on your ass, doing nothing, maybe check out Netflix rewatching Golden Girls and every time an angel comes you waffle about  _ ineffability _ . While I run my hands bloody getting Hell into shape, seriously, the demons have gained a lot when they fell, like cruelty or depression, but not  _ one _ ounce of fucking competence, I tell You. And don’t get me started about the humans! Put a forbidden fruit right in front of ‘em and then damn them for their own failings You set them up to - where have I heard that one before?

_ God _ Are you just here to whine at Me? I would have thought you’d love to have a species you could corrupt.

_ Satan _ Oh, You know me, I’ll find the hair in the soup of paradise, I can find something to complain about everywhere.

God is in deep thought while Satan picks some lint out of his suit.

_ God _ Do you know Faust?

_ Satan _ ...Buddy, there are seven billion humans on the world. I don’t even know the names of most of my demons.

_ God _ He is a righteous man.

_ Satan _ He’s human, so I sincerely doubt that. Probably just some asshole asking for the world at his feet without lifting a finger.

_ God _ He… might be a bit confused in his worship of Me, but as any gardener knows, the bud of his soul will bloom and give the fruit of faithfulness in the future.

_ Satan _ You have the weirdest metaphors, You know that? Whatever. Let’s strike a bet. I’ll send my best agent to turn him away from You - Y’know, I hate that forced capitalisation thing, that’s  _ so _ self absorbed and surely violates free will - and if he turns on You, he’s mine to take.

_ God _ As long as he is alive then you can do what you want to him. 

_ Satan _ We both know that that’s a lie. But whatever. 

_ God _ I’ll take your wager. Try to influence him away from Me, towards you. And be ashamed and embarrassed when, at the end, you have to realize, that a good human, even in his darkest hours, can’t be strayed from the path of righteousness.

_ Satan _ Alright, it’s on! I’ll make that dude my bitch! ...What’s his name, again?

_ God _ Your agent may appear and disappear as they please; they might use the tools available to them. Listen, my child. Humans can make their own decisions and they need challenges to be alive, an uncontested existence hurts them. Don’t look at Me like that, you know that this is the truth. 

Satan looks unconvinced.

_ God  _ And remember, I never hated any of you.

SHE gets up and leaves the way her archangels had left. Satan sits on the desk, alone.

_ Satan _ Tsk, always keen to shove any responsibility of Her. Whatever, it’s nice to occasionally talk to someone who isn’t terrified of you - or sees you as a very annoying manager… Now, what was that dude’s name?


	2. The tragedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faust laments... a lot.

Night

Crowley was having a good decade. Hell had kept quiet, fashion was going into a very satisfactory direction and the internet was a never ending source of mischief and entertainment. Sure, politics and climate change wise things were near a boiling point, but right now times were still peaceful enough. And from what he heard from Aziraphale, Heaven was also content enough with his work, so the two of them had less reasons to meet for business and more for pleasure. Lunches at the Ritz which turned to dinner and drinks at the bookshop, long walks in the various parks, visits to museums and stores...

Crowley had turned on prime and was half-watching a show while trolling twitter and nursing a bottle of wine.

Oh yes, this decade was going  _ very _ good, he thought.

‘Crowley, darling!’ the character on screen said and looked the demon right into the eye, ‘I have an assignment for you.’

Crowley gulped and said, ‘Oh?’

‘And you’ll better not fuck it up.’

Faust was pacing in his office. The room was made mainly out of glass, cement and aluminium, an ugly, cold piece of architecture. Papers, journals, binders, books, brochures and more were stacked on every available surface. It was one of these days where you couldn’t be sure where the border between night and day was, heavy clouds keeping the skies a uniform grey and the sun hidden.

Faust threw himself on his office chair which squeaked in protest.

‘Fuck!’ he swore.

Three god-damned Ph.D.’s in front of my name, he thought, and none of them are doing me any good.

He had gotten two of his degrees in philosophy and medicine - and a third one in theology, although he tried to keep that one hush-hush, instead pretending that that was a law degree. He had studied so much of the stuff smarter people before him had uncovered - and he still had no idea about anything. 

He groaned, thinking, I know that I know fucking nothing! Great lesson, there. Write it down for my students - what you’re doing here is useless and you’re better off and happier as a plumber or electrician. At least you’ll be of use for society!

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t have the time for bouts of despair - he had to prepare the next lecture and read and grade the theses of three students.

He groaned again and kicked away his waste basket. He would have bet his left hand that these theses were just some big pile of bullshit - although that would put his students right at the same level of his colleagues and especially of the dean. Bunch of barely literate idiots they were. He knew that he carried more intelligence in his pinky than the rest of faculty together, but fat load it brought him. He was poor, depressed and without perspective - hey, at least that’s some way he could connect to his students! He couldn’t even fault them for anything, they were just as much of a victim in this world as he was, trying to find their ways.

Was that really his fate in life? Teach, research stuff nobody gives a shit about, wrangle faculty, drink, beg for grants, sleep, until the end of his days? Is that the purpose of human life? Caught in the unrelenting maws of capitalism even in academia? Drown in the expectations of the world until you lie on your deathbed and realize, shit, my dream was being a florist?

Faust walked over to a piece of carpet in his office - of course bought privately, do you really think there’s any money for the comfort of the employees? - and shoved it aside, revealing an intricate circle, drawn in chalk on the floor.

‘This isn’t going to work,’ he muttered, ‘this is just some bullshit.’

He put up five candles around the circle and lighted them.

‘Okay, I guess, if anything’s listening,’ he started, ‘I mean, listen, ghost of the Earth, I just have some questions, you know? So if you could-’

He grabbed a book on his table, re-reading a passage. Something swirled around the room, grabbing his heart and making it hard to breathe. Maybe the spells working, he thought, or maybe I’m just having a panic attack. 

He read the true name of the ghost he was calling.

‘What the Hell?’ the creature said, disoriented.

‘Oh, I can’t bear to look!’ Faust exclaimed, covering his eyes.

‘Wow, rude.’

Faust sunk to his knees, cowering.

The ghost rolled their eyes. That’s not how they wanted to spent their Thursday night. Lillith had just told the newest drama regarding Joseph and Adam who were trying to figure out whose wife is more awesome (and she was just describing how the last iteration ended in a fist fight! When Lilith's next birthday rolls around the ghost will gift her a phone so she can film stuff like that.) and, for the first time, they were winning against Death in poker! But poof - some cowardly asshole called them away. That’s just unfair.

‘Alright, dude, you’ve called me. What do you want?’

‘Uh, I am Faust,’ the pile of human in front of the ghost mumbled, ‘And, I, um, you’re traveling the world, and understand it to the very thread count of the universe, right? And I am, similar, y’know? I also am of the world.’

The ghost snorted. 

‘Really? A string physicist is ‘near to me’. You’re just near to Narcissus. An arrogant prick, that’s what you are.’

They rolled their eyes and kicked at the barrier of the circle, which shattered on impact.

‘And if I lose that poker game I’ll come back and kick your ass,’ they said.

The ghost disappeared and Faust was alone again. He slowly looked up to where the ghost had been, the beautiful, overwhelming creature.

‘But,’ Faust whispered, ‘If I am not like you, then what am I then?’

A rap on the door interrupted him and he quickly got up. He straightened his clothes. 

‘Come in,’ he called towards the door.

Faust’s Ph.D. student, Mary Hodges, stood in front of her supervisor’s office door. She had decided to stay late to get some research done without getting interrupted - sure, she does like supporting students, but sometimes they got a bit in the way of her own research. And nothing helped more to get some work done than a nice all-nighter.

She did not expect her supervisor sobbing being another source of distraction. Although, knowing him she wasn’t particularly surprised.

‘Come in,’ she heard the soft voice on the other side of the door. She stepped in.

Faust was standing towards the door in perfectly acted composure covering up his even higher than usual miserableness. The paper situation was chaotic as always. Behind him the old, ratty rug was shoved aside, and something was painted on the floor. There were also some burning candles on the floor, which she thought was a bit of a safety risk. Hopefully the facility management wouldn’t be too angry with the work group. 

Again.

‘Faust, are you alright?’ she asked.

He made some indecisive sounds and grabbed a nearby paperback.

‘Yeah, I just was reciting some greek poetry. To get into the flow, y’know. For stuff.’ 

The deep intricacies of subtle body language escaped Mary Hodges, but she had no trouble seeing the big stuff. Like the lie Faust just had tried to feed her. And like so many lies before she shrugged it off - he wouldn’t tell her what bothered him, so trying to needle it out of him was useless.

‘Soo,’ she hummed, ‘any new realizations from old greek poetry?’

He leaned against the desk and said, ‘Beside the millions epiphanies that were already had?’ 

He tossed the book aside.

‘Eh, much bullshit is written about the old poetry, and even more of the new. And I’ll tell you, there’s just one thing connecting all literary criticism - that it’s nonsense, most of the time. You know, creation without passion will never be worthwhile. But  _ critics _ are even worse than soulless art from sell-outs.’

Mary nodded, disagreeing.

He continued unperturbed, ‘Many interpretations of the same shit, and you never hear the critics writing their own.’

‘Interaction with art takes time which the ‘critics’ are willing to take. Not everyone can be an artist - and if you even want to understand one artist's’ life work, you’ll die before you could - there is only place for one life in one person,’ Mary said.

Faust stared at her, impressed. He put his hands on her shoulders and said, ‘That’s why I’ve chosen you as my successor!’

She gaped at him. Successor? What? 

He let go of her, said, ‘now run along, we have work to do!’ and closed the door.

Mary shook her head and decided, that she can finish her work another night. A nice, long soak in the bathtub with some sci-fi novel sounded far too tempting. She left.

Faust slumped against the closed door and rubbed at his temple. He had just been building up a good wallow, and then Mary rudely interrupted him. The nerve!

He shook his head and stalked towards the window, looking into the rapidly darkening grey of the sky. He wasn’t actually cross at her - she meant well, even if in the sense, that he was her supervisor and she couldn’t have the person who would grade her work get too much into his own head, right? That’s just good self-perseverance. 

The appearance of the ghost now seemed so far away, even though the interaction with Mary had just taken a couple of minutes. As if the being never had been here, the candles flickering wordly on the ground, the circle like a children’s messy script.

And the ghost had been right, hadn’t them? Faust was nothing like the supernatural beings, who understand the very fabric of the world… and apparently they were also unwilling to share their secrets. Which made sense, Faust supposed, otherwise they wouldn’t be secrets, would they? But that did not help with his foul mood.

Years upon years studying stupid paper towers, and he’s not one step closer to understanding the important questions of human existence - hell, he didn’t even know what the questions are!

The clouds were moving fast upon the sky - a storm brewing, churning them with their heavy rain load. The wind howled through the gaps of the windows and where the aluminium panels weren’t properly aligned, making Faust shiver. 

Maybe the answers to the universe weren’t on this side of existence, he mused, maybe they are on the other side.

The church bells sounded eight.

Faust looked towards the ground. People walking around the park outside, despite the later hour. 

Faust sighed and retired for the night.


End file.
